


Jogging

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Hank’s dog-walker has a secret.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 122





	Jogging

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sumo may as well be a puppy again. When he pads over to the couch, he doesn’t collapse at Hank’s feet and lie there like the lazy puddle he’s been for the last several years—he looks up at Hank and barks with excitement, tail frantically beating back and forth. He sticks out his tongue and pants like he’s already exhausted, or at least ready to exhaust himself, and he looks at Hank expectantly, like Hank is supposed to be a part of that. Hank’s not, really. For the last month, his new neighbour’s been taking care of it. Hank never though he’d bother hiring a dog-walker. But he never thought a gorgeous thirty-something-year-old would move in next door and profess an undying love for large dogs—especially Hank’s enormous lump of a pet. When Hank first found Connor petting Sumo on his lawn, and those big beautiful brown eyes had looked up and fixed him to the spot, Hank’s heart nearly stopped beating. 

It’s not his fault Connor showed up every day at the exact same time, just like clockwork—the rate was reasonable, and Connor was _undeniable_ , and it made Sumo happy. Sumo’s become preemptively happy. Sumo doesn’t know that there’s no way Connor’s going to show up this time, and if he does, Hank...

Hank doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He’s still in a mingled state of shock and disappointment, both in himself and that neighbour. He was a cop once. He should’ve seen the signs. Connor’s _too_ perfect. Too pretty, too eager. Too punctual. Hank should’ve known. He feels guilty for passing his dog off to a complete stranger just because that stranger was cute, but when he looks into Sumo’s desperate face, he feels even guiltier for ending it. 

He knows he should just fetch the leash and walk Sumo himself. Sumo probably only ever got lazy because _Hank_ got lazy. Retirement just made his already crumbling life worse. But it also means he has time to take care of his dog if he just put the effort in.

The doorbell rings, and Sumo takes off like a rocket, barking jubilantly. Hank tenses and still doesn’t know what to do. He’s just been stewing in surprise and anguish all day with no real plan. Sumo paws at the door, and the bell rings again.

Hank pushes off the couch. A part of him is just _angry_ , and that’s a good motivator to move. There’s a split second after he’s turned the latch where he wishes he’d bothered shaving or putting on decent clothes or something, but then he reminds himself he has every right to be a miserable wreck in his own home. He’s only _human_ , after all.

He wrenches the door open, and Connor’s standing there, silhouetted by the midday sun like some sort of angel: a wonderfully handsome young man in a pressed grey suit and a mismatched ball cap, because Connor’s always been something of an anomaly. Suddenly, it makes sense that he’s always wearing hats, even though the soft brown hair curled under the brim looks perfectly fine. Sumo immediately starts rubbing against Connor’s legs, barking affectionately. 

Connor smiles down at Sumo, then turns that dazzling expression to Hank, and for a moment, Hank forgets he’s upset. 

Then a small sliver of blue catches in his peripherals, and he reaches out to snatch the cap right off Connor’s head. Connor startles, jerking back, while Hank throws the hat to the ground. The whirring LED on Connor’s temple bleeds into yellow. 

Connor blinks helplessly at him. Except now Hank knows it’s a simulation— _Connor doesn’t need to blink at all._ Hank mutters under his breath, “I fucking _knew it._ ” Just not soon enough. “Didn’t you hear? Your investigation’s over, kid. So what the fuck are you still doing here?”

Connor’s brow knits together, like he has any right to be confused or affronted when Hank’s the one that’s been lied to. He grits out, “I went down to the station this morning to get a drink with Jeffrey. But you already knew I used to work there, didn’t you? And guess who I saw comin’ out of his office.” He doesn’t wait for answers; it’s obvious. “So I waited around, asked my old friend what the hell a plastic prick like you was doing in my neighbourhood, and lo and behold, turns out you machines are doing undercover work now. Except I’m pretty sure I’m not one of the people you’re investigating—in a case Jeffrey said is _over_ , by the way—so I’ll ask you again: what the _fuck_ are you still doing here?”

Connor simulates an exhale, like his lightning-fast processors need a moment to digest all that. It takes him too long to say anything. Then he finally admits, “I... like Sumo.”

Hank squints. Connor slowly adds, “...And _you_.”

Hank’s face is suddenly on fire. He hates it. He felt like a total idiot crushing on a supermodel several decades too young for him, and now he feels even dumber crushing on a toaster. He _wants_ to be angry. But the longer he glares at Connor, the harder it is to stay mad. 

Sumo whines, probably wondering why they haven’t moved yet, and gently head-butts Connor’s legs. Connor gives the giant dog a heartbroken look and leans down to lightly scratch behind his ear. Hank’s chest clenches. 

Without looking up at him, Connor murmurs, “You know, your file shows that you were quite an impressive detective in your day. I think we could’ve used you on that case... as much confidence as I have in my programming, there is something to be said for the _human_ touch.” His gaze flickers up, and maybe there’s a little something _extra_ under those words. Or maybe Hank’s just grasping at straws, because he finds he doesn’t _actually_ want Connor to go.

He doesn’t know which of them he hates more. Connor straightens up, despite Sumo’s noisy protest. Connor seems to be waiting on Hank, but then he visibly gives up and turns to go.

Hank begrudgingly blurts out, “Do you... wanna come in for coffee or something...?” He’s _such_ an idiot.

But Connor freezes. He looks back, eyes sparkling. He answers, “I don’t drink coffee. ...But I’ll come in for you.”

Hank hasn’t blushed so hard since high school. If Jeffrey ever catches wind of this, he’ll never live it down. Sumo might be upset too, since Hank’s still, technically, ruining his walk-time. 

Except when Hank steps aside and Connor weaves into the entranceway, Sumo follows happily, tail wagging, and Hank tells himself that’s why he lets his android neighbour stay right through dinner. But they both know the real reason.


End file.
